Running commentary

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Mangahao Power Station to Reservoir #3

Date: 2 June
Distance: 16.5km
Time: 2:15

Yesterday we entered the Old Ghost Ultra, an 85km trail run, traversing the Lyell mountain range. It has been on our list (that endlessly long pipe dream list of events) for a long time, and when the countdown to the opening of entries was ticking down, Gerry and I were both sitting with laptops, ready to click click click, pay $360 each and Bob’s your uncle. It was much easier than I thought to get on the starters list – a list of only 300 participants.

Perhaps we got a bit carried away in the moment of trying to be one (two) of the lucky ones that ‘got in’, but now here we are. Entered, and a bit less than nine months to get ready.

Despite a reasonably good start in March (169km), the following two months were again a hit and miss. We just couldn’t keep it consistent. In April we managed seventeen activities and 197km, and in May nineteen activities and only 139km. Gerry was sick with who knows what, couldn’t/didn’t want to eat for about week, and generally felt unwell. With winter around the corner and the weather challenging to top it off, running was taking a back seat.

But with entries to an event that sounds fantastic in all respects, we decided to celebratenby going out for a run-walk where we haven’t been before. Thinking of venturing into the Otaki Gorge to summit Mount Hector, we soon realised it might be a bit too ambitious for my current fitness state. On top of the trail itself which is about 13-15km one way, and about 1400m straight up the mountain, there’s another 6.3km hike down the gorge road and over a massive slip. All up, the outing would have been nearly a marathon distance, with a lot of elevation, and only nine hours of daylight. It didn’t seem realistic.

So off to Shannon we went for a trip to the three dams in the Tararua Range . We knew about these reservoirs and were curious to see what it looked like. The plan was to drive to the Tokomaro No 3 Reservoir (8km from the Power Station at the bottom), then jog-walk past the Mangahao No 2 Reservoir to the Mangahao No 1 Reservoir, about 9km further into the mountain. But driving past the power station and starting the steep shingles single lane road, we soon decided that we’d rather have a look on foot before attempting it by normal car. There aren’t really turn-around spots and we weren’t sure what the condition of the road would be like.

That meant that we wouldn’t be able to make it to the furthest reservoir, as again, that would result in nearly 40km out and back if we don’t drive half of it to the campsite.

The road was reasonably steep, mostly uphill (490m) for 8km, of which we walked the bulk of it. About two-thirds in, a 1.2km downhill section was most welcome, before heading up again over the last kilometre or two to the reservoir.

The Arapeti campsite is basically just a clearing in the bush, overlooking the dam. No toilet (which I was hoping for, but ended up having to pee in the bush) and no water.  And no shelter, just an information board with photos about the erection of the dam wall. We looked around and walked to a small building, before starting to make our way back downhill.

The road was wet from the recent rain, and cool in the shade, but fortunately the temperature was about 13 degrees C with only a very light to almost no wind. Having said that, the cloud cover changed the mood to ominous. Seeing all the shot gun shells and alcoholic drinks bottles and cans next to the road, didn’t help. Add to that the usual dumping of rubbish, and you have me worried about the types that frequent this road. One such dump site even had photographs strewn in the ditch, while a couch was set alight in another spot with a dirty nappy, amongst the rubbish, still laying in a puddle next to the burned out couch.

We saw three guys on scramblers (off road motorbikes), not together, a girl on a MTB, a fancy new-ish ute, an SUV, a farmer and his wife in a clapped out old ute with a dead pig on the back, a party of two 4WDs, and two boy racer-type utes, on the road. The latter two (4WD and boy racers) being the types you do not want to encounter while on foot on a narrow gravel road. With revving engines, racing up the mountain, one on foot is very exposed with nowhere to go or hide. Sheer drop off in most places makes for a very scary road, especially by vehicle.

Back at the car, safe and sound, we poured coffee from the thermos, and ate some corn cakes with cheese and salami, before heading home. It was still an enjoyable outing despite the somewhat uncomfortable feel of it all. It’s amazing how ones mind can go off on a tangent when the mood (and the weather!) is just right, and you start to look for dead bodies floating in the dirty brown water beneath the dam wall, or a dead tramper next to the road, run over by someone drunk or drugged.

Perhaps I should stop watching crime series or movies. Hehe.

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Brine to Wine (and some)

Date: 16 April
Distance: 12 + 5km
Time: 1:41

Since our last running of the Brine to Wine back in 2016, the course has changed a bit and was shortened from 16km to 12km. The walkway has also been sealed (cemented) all the way, as apposed to our last running when parts were still on shingle (limestone).

As was the case previously, with the event being a point-to-point, we had to get to the start. Luckily this time, and with the changed course, it was only a 5km run (and not 16km) to get to the start.

We left early from Palmy with the idea to have 15 minutes or so spare to park and pee and get ourselves sorted for the run. On the way there we thought of driving by the start first (to see where it is) and to potentially register. Which, fortunately, we could do.

But by then and with an entry in hand, we ran out of time and quickly had to drive back to the finish, park, pee, and start making our way back for the 9:15 start. For some reason I was terribly unorganised since I woke up. If I hadn’t put out my running clothes, and dry clothes for after the run, the night before, who knows what I would’ve arrived with. Luckily Gerry was a bit more organised and made coffee for the road, packed jet planes jelly sweets for the run, and some snacks for afterwards.

Needless to say, we started later than planned. Only after we started running, did I realise that actually I would have loved to walk the first kilometre or two. However, there was no time. We had less than 30 minutes to run the 5km to be on time.

While running I started making planes in my head for when we arrive late, as I was convinced we would be. I figured we could either run until the last runners came past from the front, then turn around and follow them, or keep going to a deserted start, turn around and just be far behind everyone else. Luckily neither of these were necessary, as we made it in time.

After the first kilometre on our way to the start, I realised that we were going at a (almost) 6min/km pace, and I wasn’t completely winded. Somehow I managed to pick up the pace from there to dip under a 6min/km and kept going at that pace all the way to the start. I knew I could do a parkrun in less than 30 minutes going flat out, but thought I would pay for it later in the run.

By the time we reached the start, race briefing was underway, and with a four minute late start, we ended up spending five minutes hanging around.

It was reasonably cool (about 11 degrees) and being wet from running there, the light breeze just added to my discomfort. Both Gerry and I had to put back on the layer we took off halfway through our run to the start.

Paula counted us down and then we were off on the official event. It took a few kilometres, running into the breeze, before I could take off my extra layer again. This time of year, having to put on and take off layers mid run, is a constant for me. We started near the back, but managed to overtake a couple of other runners. And that remained our position for the bulk of the event. Only near the end did we pass a few more runners and walkers.

As we were running, we saw lots of other runners just out on their Sunday run, and I couldn’t help but wonder why more people wouldn’t sign up for the event. At only $15 for the 12km event, why not support it? Every year with the Manawatū Striders’ Super Sevens events, hundreds of runners crawl out of the woodwork, and one has to wonder where they go the for rest of the year. Obviously there are heaps of runners out there, so why don’t they do the events? My theory is that the running culture in NZ is still one of ‘racing’. Unless you can go with guns blazing, you are not a true runner and should not waste time with events. Whereas in South Africa, the running community was much more inclusive – everybody ran and did events. The system with clubs and events was also different, which might have added to more runners and walkers participating.

The weather was just about as good as it gets. A little bit too cool for my liking, but no rain and no gales. So, ‘perfect’.

I was going surprisingly well. It felt like the good ol’ days when I could run anything from a 5km to a 50km at a 6min pace without killing myself. By the time we were about 3km from the finish, I realised I might be able to make it to the finish in 1:42 – a six minute pace. Surprisingly, I could keep going while the kilometres ticked over quicker than usual. It has been a good few years since I last could managed a six minute pace for anything further than a 10km. I got to the end not feeling like the walking dead, and very pleased that I could keep the pace. I would have been happy with two hours for the 17km run at this stage of my fitness, which on hindsight is probably what I should have done.

It is an enjoyable run, mainly on the walkway away from traffic, with just a short stretch on the pavement in a suburb. At a water point at 6km we got a 500ml bottle of water which Gerry and I could share. As a single person, a whole bottle is a lot of water to down, and not many people would want to run with a water bottle, but it worked well for us. At the finish we got another one, as well as some cheese curls-type chips. We were also handed a token for a free beer at the Stellar pub across the road from the finish.

After changing into dry clothes, Gerry and I went to the pub for our drinks and prize giving. Dave and David were also there with fellow race walker Graeme, whom we met for the first time. 

While this should now be the ‘Brine to Beer’ run, I opted to go for wine, keeping with the Brine to Wine theme. The house also offered some nibbles, really making this the best value for money event out there.

After prize giving (no spot prizes for us), we went by the supermarket for some salad, chicken and olives, to make a picnic at Araheke MTB park/Lakelands Holiday Park/Lake Wiritoa, before heading home.

Cheers to another small, value for money event in our region – long may it continue.

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The UTK (Ultra Trail Kosciuszko) that wasn’t

I thought perhaps I should just write a follow-up about our plan to run the 100 mile event in 2022.

Maybe because it is a new event and to entice participants into entering super early (it worked!), the event had the option to carry over your entry at no cost to the next year should you not be able to do it for whatever reason. And back doors are dangerous – when there’s a back door, one is almost guaranteed to take it.

In our defence we did try. We started with a bang and were doing very well for a few months, slowly building up fitness. Then my mum got sick, and we had to make the trip back to the motherland. Travelling around the world, and back and forth between our families for more than a month, took its toll. What was meant to be a crucial time in our buildup, ended up being a next to no training month. Coupled with all the stress of travelling, missing a connecting flight due to a stuff up by Qantas with the first flight, and having to postpone everything by a week, rearrange and rebook everything, eventually arriving without luggage, the stress of a sick parent, and the list goes on, training was the absolute last thing on my mind. Plus, that back door was wide open.

Arriving back, exhausted, to horrible weather (it seems to be getting worse) – non-stop wind and sideways rain – our enthusiasm for the inaugural event was all but gone. So we made the call to transfer our entries to this year. It is not a good decision to have to make. One’s self-esteem takes a knock and you feel like a failure.

Following the proceedings leading up to the event on FB, I was met with a mix of FOMO and relief. It was snowing up in the mountain in the weeks leading up to, and still a few days out from, the event and it started to look like the compulsory gear would have to be next level. Some lack of communication and other hick-ups by the organisers – GPX files were not made available and final course maps were not shared until the last minute, perhaps because the course had to be changed TWICE due to snow and safety of runners, details about aid stations, drop bags, pacers, support crew, etc – resulted in participants getting anxious and angry. Tonnes of entries were sold off and transferred, and things were looking to be in a bit of a shambles. At the same time, those who stuck to it could boast to be hardcore, have grit, and able to deal with whatever life throws at them. Ultimately, I suspect the course routes need some serious rethinking and replanning for the years to come.

But, fingers crossed, we can get our act together and line up at the start end of this year. We bought a new watch. The Suunto 9 Peak Pro to replace the old one of more than eight years. It was time. And with new gear comes renewed enthusiasm. We have a rough idea of what we need to do, and where we need to be with our training each month. The overall aim is to get out the door six days a week, to build up slowly, never to skip the long-run, walk heaps, and do the occasional speed session. On top of that, we have to start focusing on strength training and flexibility. My buggered hips and misalignment need all the help they can get.

To 2023! May it be a good year for health and fitness.

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Cliff Walk, Eketahuna

Our weekdays and weekends are just a tangle of days. With Gerry often teaching on weekends and sometimes weeknights, on top of weekday classes, while also running a photography company where traveling is part of the process (when not in lockdown when all jobs gets cancelled), we have no routine. It’s messy. Most days and weekends just come and go. The joy and excitement of ‘normal’ life Fridays (ay, ay, it’s Friday!) is a big miss, especially when Saturdays are workdays. Unfortunately, the dread of Mondays are still there. Must be ingrained after many years of school, Uni, and work-life, or perhaps just everyday life where there are still lots of memes, and people agonising over the dread of their Monday-back-to-the-grindstone fate.

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Barefoot and zero drop

This is neither a shoe review, nor expert advice. Just an observation.

There are so many theories out there about barefoot running and zero drop shoes, that it gets tangled up and one can easily just lump it all together as one concept. However, this is not the case, as I was sorely reminded of this week.

But first let me backtrack a bit. For the past five or so years, I’ve run in Altra. Since I always walk around barefoot in the house, going zero-drop was a no-brainer. No fuss, not frills, no getting used to it or gradually phasing it in. To be honest, I don’t think interchanging between zero-drop and six to eight or even ten millimetre is something that will really affect the average runner (if a blind test was done). But according to the experts, this is not the case and one shouldn’t just jump into zero-drop shoes.

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